


The Past and The Present

by JessicaMariana



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25998148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaMariana/pseuds/JessicaMariana
Summary: What happened to the Warden after the fifth Blight when the world was celebrating the end of the war against the darkspawn? This is what happened to Grier Amell-Trevelyan.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Amell (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Kudos: 7





	The Past and The Present

“We need to talk...”

That’s how it began. Or ended. Either way Grier felt her heart drop when Alistair came into the room after the Landsmeet with an unusually serious expression on his face. He took her hand in his and pulled her aside from curious listeners.

“I’m not going to question why you made me king,” he said. “I even think I’m starting to come around on the idea, anyhow… It could be an interesting future for me.”

Grier listened carefully, dreading what he was going to say next. She knew, though, already having asked to stay with him while he took the throne.

“But… being king, it raises some questions about us. About you and me,” he continued. And there it was. Grier sighed and pulled her hand away from his, her eyes on the floor as she countered.

“It doesn’t have to change anything, does it? I… I thought you loved me.” She had never been good at expressing herself, and this hurt more than anything.

“I do!” Alistair was quick to reply. “But this is all I can think about right now, since the Landsmeet.” He went on explaining how it was unheard of for two Wardens to have children, because of their short lives and the taint in the blood. It wasn’t just a question of his obligation to his country.

“I know, but–” Grier tried to argue against him, but Alistair was determined to make his voice heard. He stepped closer to her and said:

“As king I’ll be required to have a child. Even more so because my death is assured. That’s assuming that someone with the taint can or should even have a child.” He ran a hand up Grier’s arm, but she shrugged away.

It was becoming very clear to her that Alistair was talking about having someone else’s child. Not hers.

This was it, then. This was the end of “Alistair and Grier”.

Grier’s heart sank deeper and the lump in her throat that had started to grow when she looked at Alistair’s face now choked her and she had to take deliberate, deep breaths in order to stay upright.

They were never going to have a happy ending. Grier had known that when they first met, but forgotten it because of the way Alistair had made her feel. He reminded her of the good things in life. He distracted her from the tedious task of fighting the Blight. He had made being a Warden a happy collection of memories.

“Both of us will die young,” Alistair continued, oblivious to the turmoil within Grier. “I will need a wife; one who can bear a child; who will live to raise it. I don’t relish it but… I will have a duty as the king.” He took a step back then, looking down at Grier.

Grier’s eyes glittered with tears, but she said nothing, did nothing to stop him. Her body wouldn’t move. She couldn’t feel herself. She knew this was for the best, no matter how much she screamed on the inside for Alistair to shut up and hold her. She regretted making him king. She hated herself for making that decision. But it was the right thing to do.

“I love you,” Alistair said then, his voice softening, but his face remaining cold. “More than I ever thought possible, but… I have to face what this means. I can’t run away from it any more.”

_ He’s joking _ , Grier told herself.  _ He must be joking. No one can force the king to do anything he doesn’t want to. _

The lump in her throat made her unable to reply, to tell him that she loved him too. More than anything in the world.

“Please don’t look at me like that,” Alistair said when Grier looked up to meet his eyes. The tears now fell freely down her cheeks from reddened eyes. “I didn’t know it would turn out like this.” He shifted and took a deep breath. “It’s already very hard for me to tear myself away from you. Impossible, even.”

_ So don’t.  _ A single, miserable sob escaped her.

“If this is what must be then… then I have to do it now. I’m sorry.” Alistair dropped his gaze to the floor between them and took another step back. Grier’s heart ached in objection.

“Why can’t we wait a while longer?” she choked and snivelled. “See what happens.”

“If I don’t end it now,” he sighed, his eyes glistening now as well. “I fear I will never be able to. I’m sorry. But I have no other choice.”

_ So this is it. It’s over. _

Alistair reached out and stroked her arm again in a hope of comforting her. “I think it is best,” he finished in a strained voice. “For both our sakes.”

_ For yours, maybe, but not mine, _ Grier thought in defeat. She felt her knees buckle and had to lean against the wall behind her, but even so they gave way and she slumped to the floor. To her horror, Alistair just stood there, unmoving and quiet like a statue.  _ Do something. Say something. Anything. Just don’t leave me here. I don’t want to be alone again. _

That night Grier lay awake in her bed, unable to sleep. She stared into the glowing embers in the fireplace and listened to the silent corridor outside her room in hopes of hearing the familiar footfall of Alistair. The night went on and Grier lost track of time. She didn’t hear a single sound other than her own breath and the rustling of the sheets when she moved. The castle was asleep. Everyone was gathering energy to make the journey to Redcliffe in the morning.

The next morning they rode to Redcliffe.

Grier was barely paying attention to her surroundings, still too shaken and now also sleep-deprived. Before she knew it, they had arrived, killed some darkspawn and left again.

“Riordan tells us that the bulk of the horde is, in fact, heading towards Denerim,” was all she remembered hearing Arl Eamon say. And the Archdemon was at the head of the horde.

So they were to turn back and ride straight to the capital at once.

Grier glanced at Alistair riding beside her in the setting sunlight. He didn’t look as sullen as she had hoped him to be, but something stirred beneath the calm expression on his face. He looked uncomfortable. Grier shrugged it off as having to ride beside her and her not having spoken to him for the entire day. But then she glanced at Morrigan just behind him, and she had a similar expression to her.

“Can we talk?” Grier asked, letting her horse slow a bit to ride beside the witch.

Morrigan turned to her with her usual nonchalant expression whenever Grier asked her something. “Yes?”

Grier leaned over towards her and lowered her voice. “Last night, you said you had a plan.”

“And you told me to take it up with the other Wardens,” Morrigan added.

“Yes. And I take it you did, judging by Alistair’s expression. Anyway, I just wanted to check that our plan is still being followed through?”

“Of course. I made a promise, and since you’ve done so much for me I can indulge you with this one.”

“Thank you.” Grier shifted her attention to the fore where Denerim came into sight on the horizon.

The next few hours, in the dim light of the dusk obscured by the taint of the horde that covered the sky, Grier felled countless of the foul beasts and still stood strong when they reached the top of Fort Drakon where the Archdemon awaited. The numerous potions she’d imbibed and the rejuvenating spells cast by Morrigan probably did a lot to keep her on her feet for so long, but at some point during the day Grier had stopped caring. Nothing mattered beyond killing the Archdemon and stopping the Blight.

Alistair was in charge now. Now that he was to be the king, he might as well get used to making all the decisions, Grier told herself.

It felt like the Archdemon would never die. No matter how depleted her stamina was, no matter how much force she put into her spells, it kept leaping about on the rooftop, stomping on the troops and killing those trying to defeat it and the darkspawn But then… Then it suddenly seemed to falter. Grier saw her chance. But so did Alistair. They both raced towards the crippled beast. Alistair, his sword raised in both hands and shield discarded, screamed as he prepared to slash the dragon. Grier mustered all her remaining powers to the blade at the lower end of her staff and did the same. A black mass of raw power surged from the dragon and threw her backwards, and Alistair’s blade sunk deep into its head. Her vision darkened, but she was back on her feet in no time. She looked around. An incredible whirlwind swept across the rooftop, seeming to come from the Archdemon as its lifeforce left it. Alistair clung stubbornly to his sword at the center of it all with a face of absolute determination.

Morrigan came rushing to Grier’s side and supported her.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked, not taking her eyes off of Alistair.

“Is he going to make it?” Grier countered.

“I assure you, he will.”

“Then, let’s go.”

Without a word, Grier dropped her charred staff next to the burned remains of a lithe soldier who could easily be mistaken for a woman, and turned away.

Not arguing against her, Morrigan led her back towards the entrance of the roof, and together they quickly descended the tower, leaving everything behind without a second backwards glance. At the base of the fort, Grier and Morrigan stumbled as a shockwave blew past them from above. It was over. The Archdemon was slain. Grier hadn’t seen it take its last breaths, but she trusted her gut feeling. Nonetheless, she glanced at Morrigan who appeared unperturbed.

“Is it dead?” Grier asked.

“It is,” Morrigan confirmed. “Now let us make haste.”

“Are you sure it’s her?”

“Your Highness, we can’t be sure who any of these are,” explained one of the soldiers, gesturing around them at the bodies scattered throughout the rooftop of Fort Drakon, all of which were burned beyond recognition. “But this appears to be the only woman here. Besides, there’s a staff next to her.”

Alistair let out a heavy sigh and fell to his knees, looking grief-strickenly at the body in front of him who he thought was Grier. One moment he remembered seeing her from the corner of his eyes as he charged the Archdemon for the final blow. Then he’d lost consciousness. When he woke up, roused by the voices of survivors taking count of who were left standing, and helping those who were wounded, Alistair had at once started looking around for his friends, for the one person who was most important to him.

And there she was. Or so he thought.

“What have I done?” he asked himself as tears fell from his cheeks. “Oh, my love. I’m so, so sorry.” He took the stiff hand of the blackened corpse which had almost shrivelled into a skeleton, and held it to his forehead as he wept.

Grier wiped her lips with the back of her hand and listened discreetly to the talk of the other patrons of the roadside inn.

“I hear they held a memorial for the Warden who stood beside the king,” said one man.

“It’s a shame she died. We could have used more women like her,” said another.

“Yes. Seems mages do have some uses.”

“But a new Commander of the Grey Wardens is apparently being appointed their position today. The king is riding to Amaranthine. They say he’s giving Vigil’s Keep to the Order as a base of operations in Ferelden.”

“I heard the new Commander is also a woman,” chimed a third voice in. “And not only that. Apparently the king is quite infatuated by her. I believe we’ll be celebrating a royal wedding soon!”

Grier grasped the tankard tightly in her hands, trying not to slam it into the tabletop. _ So that’s how long it took for him to get over me? Wonderful.  _ She sighed, and with another swig emptied the vessel before leaving the establishment.

She wasn’t sure how long it had been since the battle of Denerim. She’d lost track of time in her rush to get as far away from the capital as possible. Morrigan hadn’t stayed beside her for more than a day before departing, saying she had another mission to fulfil now that the Blight was over. Grier had asked her about it, but she’d been her usual evasive self and not replied in any way which would let Grier understand what she was talking about. In the end they’d separated as friends, wishing one another good fortune and hoping to meet again one day. After some thought, Grier had decided on her own new mission: she was going home. Kinloch Hold was still a mess, but her family on her father’s side, the Trevelyan’s, lived in Ostwick, up north in the Free Marches. They had a Circle tower which rumour said was more lenient than others and would probably welcome a new apprentice with open arms.

Thinking of the warm beds, the libraries with innumerable books, and three meals a day, Grier couldn’t wait to get there.

“Nalini, do you know where I put the book on elemental spells for beginners? I could’ve sworn I put it on nightstand yesterday, but–”

Grier reread the titles of the books piled on top of her nightstand, but couldn’t spot that one particular item anywhere. Where could it be?

Suddenly, a book appeared in the line of sight from over her shoulder. She turned and looked at the towering frame of the qunari, who held the book out.

“Here it is,” Nalini replied monotonously, meeting Grier’s eyes.

“Thank you.” Grier took the book and tucked it under her arm. She’d promised to lend it to another apprentice who’d been having a hard time grasping the fundamentals of summoning fire, a dangerous task the apprentice didn’t want to try until she’d read more thoroughly of the subject, much to Grier’s relief.

Since arriving unannounced at the Circle tower of Ostwick and telling her story to the First-Enchanter, Grier had taken on lighter duties of tutoring new apprentices in basic spells and chronicling the events of the fifth Blight when she had time. Now, away from the war and finally sleeping peacefully again, she found she had nothing but time. She put down as many details as possible of the events she’d experienced, only skipping personal information, mainly the relationships she didn’t like to revisit. It wasn’t that she disliked any of her former companions, on the contrary, she liked them all quite a bit. But maybe they disliked her for disappearing so suddenly. And making Alistair believe she had died during the final battle… That still gnawed at her. She felt guilty. Many times she’d considered writing to him, but then always found herself slipping back into memories of when she and Alistair had been more than friends, of the way he’d looked at her with complete adoration, of the way his lips often pressed against hers when night fell, and of the soft whispers of one another’s names in the dark tent. Before reaching the final memory of them together, the night when their warm words of admiration and positivity had turned to ice cold silence, Grier indulged herself. At night she would quietly sneak a hand under the blankets of her bed and touch herself to the memories of Alistair’s large and inexperienced hands that were all too eager to know every detail of her. She’d long to be back in the tent, on the hard ground, so long as it was in Alistair’s strong arms. But before she knew it, she’d be spent, tried from exertion, and crying over the love that was no more.

It hadn’t been long after leaving Denerim that word got out of the new king of Ferelden getting married to some noblewoman. Apparently this was the daughter of the Couslands who had somehow survived Arl Howe’s attack on her family during the Blight. And she was the new Warden Commander of Ferelden, a position that would have been Grier’s had she stayed. But she hadn’t been able to deal with Alistair’s sudden indifference after declaring their break-up back then, and she had been ready to do anything not to have to stay in his presence.

Grier was still thankful for Morrigan having agreed to help her leave the city as soon as the Archdemon was dead. But she still wondered how Alistair had killed the dragon and survived. Something she’d surely never know unless she spoke to Alistair.

“Will you need this one as well?”

Nalini’s soft voice shook Grier from her thoughts. She looked up to see Nalini hold up another book on basic elemental spells.

“No, thank you,” she replied.

Nalini nodded and put the book on the desk at the foot end of the bed before taking the others from Grier’s nightstand and placing them there too, all in alphabetical order.

Grier watched her work quietly as she made a few notes for the lesson awaiting her apprentice.

She’d met Nalini soon after joining the Ostwick Circle. She’d never seen a qunari mage before. In fact, the only qunari she’d met was Sten, the complete opposite of Nalini in all things but their habit of using very few words and as rarely as possible. She wasn’t entirely sure why the qunari had initially caught her attention, but now she was a valued friend. Having been made tranquil, Nalini neglected self-care, and therefore Grier took it upon herself to care for her. In return Grier got someone who listened to her grievances with the occasional logical feedback, something she appreciated immensely. Nalini was as close to family as Grier had ever had.

Even though she’d used her father’s family name, Trevelyan, to get recognised by the First-Enchanter and get a slightly more lenient and comfortable stay at the tower, she had never actually met her father. She wasn’t sure he even knew of her existence. She didn’t remember much of her life before entering Kinloch Hold. The Circle was home to her, and the other mages were her family, though distant. She hadn’t been this at peace since before her Harrowing.

“May I recommend you drink less,” Nalini said while dusting off the desktop with her hand, and looked at the empty bottle of wine which stood there.

Grier glanced at the bottle. It was true, she’d been drinking quite a bit lately. She told herself it was because of the awful things she’d been through during the Blight, to forget the hurt, but the Blight had been over for years now. Nalini was right.

“Yeah,” Grier admitted. She never liked drinking, but it had become a bad habit after she discovered how well it put her to sleep whenever her mind was filled with past memories that she’d rather forget. “I should. Please stop me if you see another bottle in my room.”

“Very well.”

Grier was lucky and thankful for having Nalini at her side.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.”

_ What? _

Grier couldn’t remember what had happened. She wasn’t even sure of where she was or who the woman threatening her was. Her vision was blurred by just having regained consciousness, and the room was cloaked in darkness save for a single torch lit by the doorway. But there was a second woman behind her, hidden by shadows, who had an air of familiarity about her. Grier could just about make out her slender silhouette.

“The Conclave is destroyed,” continued the first stranger. “Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.”

_ What? What do you mean everyone is dead? The Conclave is destroyed? What happened? How? Why? What..? _

Grier’s mouth hung agape in disbelief and confusion. “What?” she croaked. “Wh–”

“Do you remember what happened?” the second woman added, her voice hard. That’s when Grier recognised it, and that’s when she stepped out into the dim light.

“Leliana?” Grier gasped.

The bard stood motionless and silent, scrutinising her. “I didn’t believe it when I first saw you,” she said in a small voice. “But it is you isn’t it, Grier?”

Grier nodded in response and swallowed around the lump in her throat. The tension visibly left Leliana and the air felt a little lighter when she sighed heavily and kneeled in front of her old friend. She threw her arms around Grier and held her close. Grier wished she could hug her back, but her hands were shackled in her lap.

“Grier?” said the other woman with confusion in her voice. “The Hero of Ferelden?”

“The one and only,” Leliana confirmed once she sat back and looked Grier over with new eyes. Grier could see the hurt in them that she’d caused so long ago. How could she have abandoned every one of her friends because of that one thing that didn’t even have anything to do with them? Grier bowed her head, regretting her years of silence. After all, it wouldn’t have been impossible to reach out to the rest of her companions through letters while ignoring the only one who hurt her.

“I’m sorry,” Grier confessed. “I… I’m sorry.” She couldn’t manage to elaborate on her reasons. Maybe one day, but not now.

“Everyone thinks you’re dead,” stated Leliana.

“Indeed. How can someone so famous have stayed hidden all these years?” wondered the other one. “But never mind that.” She stepped closer to Grier and grabbed the heavy iron that held her wrists together. A bright green gash flamed on her left palm as it was raised in front of her. It burned like fire and suddenly flared brighter still, causing Grier to jerk and shout out in pain.

“Explain  _ this _ ,” said the stranger, gesturing to Grier’s hand.

“I don’t– ahh– I don’t know what that is,” Grier cried, looking horrifically at the strange mark.

“You’re lying!”

“Wait, Cassandra!” Leliana stepped between them. “Grier doesn’t lie. She never has.”

Grier looked at the two. Her heart leapt into her throat. For a moment, she thought the woman called Cassandra actually was going to kill her if she didn’t answer, but how could she when she truly didn’t know anything? Of the three of them there, Grier was the most confused at the moment.

“I don’t understand,” she pleaded. “What’s going on?” Her thoughts returned to Cassandra’s first comments as she’d come to.  _ Everyone who attended is dead _ . No. Did that mean… “Wait,” she gasped. “Nalini– I mean… There was a qunari at the Conclave. Is she..?”

Leliana and Cassandra turned back to look at her.

“The tranquil?” Leliana asked, to which Grier nodded. “She’s alive. My scouts spotted her some distance from the temple before the explosion. I found it odd and ordered them to take her in. They brought her here. She’s outside.”

Grier breathed a sigh of relief.

“But what were you doing at the Conclave?” Cassandra asked. “Are you a spy? An assassin sent to kill the Divine?”

“Whether you believe it or not, I’m just a bystander,” Grier explained. “I went to the Conclave to listen to the talks. I wanted peace as much as the Chantry. Ask Leliana if you don’t believe me. I may be a mage, but I was happy in the Circle. You want to know where I’ve been for the past ten years? I went to Ostwick after the Blight to join the Circle there, where no one knew who I was, to live in peace. To be forgotten.” Tears flooded Grier’s eyes. She’d never wanted to be part of anything world-altering. In fact, she wanted to be normal, just like everyone else. Sure, she was a mage, but even mages were normal compared to the Grey Wardens of legend and other heroes, forgotten by the world, locked up in their little towers. And now it seemed she was in yet another mess. She prayed it wouldn’t be as big as the Blight, but of course it was a vain hope. The Circles were no more, mages and templars were at war, and now… What was that thing on her hand? Something told her to find out more about it. But to do that she’d have to give up her old life of peace and quiet. She cried silently as Cassandra and Leliana watched her, contemplating what to do.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana,” said Cassandra then, and placed a hand on the hilt of the sword she carried. “I will take her to the Rift.” Leliana nodded and left the room. Cassandra turned to look at Grier, fished a key out of her pocket and unshackled the prisoner.

“What’s going to happen now?” Grier wondered and rubbed her wrists.

“It’ll be easier if I show you,” was all Cassandra said before leading her out of the dungeons into the light of day.

At the entrance to the building, which seemed to be a Chantry, Grier was reunited with Nalini, who she hugged tightly, before her attention was drawn to the sky above the mountains.

All she could say at the sight of the Breach was “fuck”.

“We did it. We really closed the Breach… Right?”

Grier looked up at Nalini who sat beside her on the edge of the bed. The qunari’s calm demeanor as usual didn’t reveal a single thought she might have had.

“Lady Pentaghast believes so, and looking at the sky, I believe so as well,” she replied. “Are you feeling well?” She turned to look at Grier, whose forehead was still clammy with sweat. She’d lost consciousness right after mustering all her powers combined with that of the few mages she had been able to rally in such a short time in order to close the huge rift in the sky. Afterwards, she was told by her friend, she had been taken back to Haven and cared for while her body recovered from the exhaustion which had resulted in a high fever and countless nightmares. Now she had finally woken up, three days later, hearing loud praise for what she’d done before even seeing the result for herself.

“You’re up,” were the first words out of Cassandra’s mouth as Grier joined her, Leliana, Josephine and Cullen in the Chantry. “You did it,” she continued with a glint in her eyes. “The Breach is closed.”

“But now we need to deal with whoever is behind it all,” interjected Leliana.

“I agree,” Cullen added sullenly. “Whoever opened the Breach in the first place must have enormous powers at hand. Powers we should cull before they do even more harm.”

Grier nodded in agreement, listening in silence as the group planned future missions over the map on the table. She was still in disbelief that Cullen hadn’t recognised her yet. She had asked Leliana and Cassandra to leave out the fact that she was the missing Warden from the Blight from everyone else - which they’d done, albeit reluctantly - but it surprised her when she’d seen Cullen on the battlefield on their way to the Temple of Sacred Ashes and he hadn’t paid her much attention at all. At first she’d assumed it was because he was focused on protecting the troops, but when they’d met for the second time just moments ago, Cassandra having introduced him and Josephine to her, he still hadn’t batted an eye at her presence. It wasn’t like they were complete strangers either. During her time in Kinloch Hold, Grier had talked with the templar quite a few times, and even attempted to flirt with the young man. And it’s not as if the mages of the tower wore full plate armour which hid their faces like the templars often did.

_ Maybe he’s still scarred by what happened after I left? _ she wondered, and remembered the state she’d found the Circle in after returning there during the Blight. Abominations running amok, death around every corner, and Cullen trapped in a nightmare for who knows how many days before Grier and her friends had come to their aid. Yet another thing to regret on her part. Maybe she could have helped them all earlier if she’d been there the whole time and not left with Duncan. Maybe more people could have been saved. But that was mostly Jowan’s fault. She still hadn’t forgiven his actions which led to her conscription into the Order and which began the rebellion at Kinloch Hold.

“The Commander looks tired,” Nalini noted to Grier as they walked along the frozen lake. “Do you know him?”

Grier glanced at her friend. So she hadn’t been subtle about it, yet Cullen had been oblivious to her. “Yes,” she replied. “He was stationed at Kinloch Hold when I lived there. The last time I saw him was during the Blight. He had been tortured by demons while I was gone.”

“Do you have feelings for him?”

_ Straight to the point, as always _ , Grier noted. “A little, I guess,” she sighed and looked at the cloud-covered sky which gently dropped little snowflakes upon them. “But we were young, both of us,” she added. “Maybe it was just youthful curiosity. He was a boy who paid me a bit of attention. Of course that interested me and made me want to get closer to him.”  _ But maybe he did that with several girls? Maybe I wasn’t so special? How else could he not have recognised me? _

“Will you repair the previous bond between you?” Nalini asked.

“Maybe,” Grier mused.  _ It would be nice. But I don't want to get hurt again… And I’m so easily hurt these days. _

Grier found the Commander of the Inquisition casting glances her way every now and then, and who could tell how many more times his eyes lingered on her when she wasn’t looking. Had he finally caught on? Grier found it amusing but wouldn’t reveal herself just yet. She wondered if he even knew her full name. If he didn’t, then it was understandable why he hadn’t caught on. She’d left the Amell name in her past when arriving in Ostwick and began using the Trevelyan’s name, and if anyone who didn’t know her spoke of her it was by her new titles, the Herald of Andraste or Inquisitor. That made three titles now, including the Hero of Ferelden. But she wondered what kind of hero she truly was. She was assumed dead and hadn’t actually delivered the final blow to end the Blight. All in all, she was no better than any of her previous companions. Alistair should have gotten all the praise he was due.  _ All _ of it.

Grier heaved a sigh, not realising that the Commander’s eyes were on her once more. He cleared his throat and approached her with caution.

“Work on Skyhold is underway, guard rotations established,” he reported. Grier noted how stiff he looked. More so than usual. “We should have everything on course within the week. We will not run from here, Inquisitor.”

_ Again with the title _ , Grier sighed to herself.  _ I just want to be me. I want to be Grier, if only for one more person _ . “Thank you, Cullen,” she replied. “But please, take a break. You look ready to topple over.”

“I will not rest until I know we’re safe here,” he argued with sudden passion, something that made Grier’s heart leap in her chest. She understood his will to protect these innocent people at all costs all too well. Even if she never wanted this life, it had been forced on her, she had to live with it, and she wasn’t just going to turn her back on those in need. What kind of healer would that make her?

“Morale was low,” Cullen continued in a lower tone and looked down between them. “But it has improved greatly since you accepted the role of Inquisitor.”

“I just hope I can be worthy of the title,” Grier said, also looking down between them, finding their dirty boots as interesting as Cullen seemed to do.

“You’ve already proven your worth.”

Grier glanced up at the templar who seemed to have a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Thank you, Cullen.” Her cheeks felt a little warmer too. “I’m relieved that you– that so many made it out.”

“As am I.” Cullen glanced back at her, and for a moment, their eyes met. They both fell silent and looked away again. Cullen scratched his neck, and Grier shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She was about to leave when Cullen added: “You stayed behind. You could have–”

Grier turned back to face him.

“I will not allow the events at Haven to happen again.” He stepped closer to her and lowered his voice further. “You have my word.”

At these final words, Grier practically felt like she was on fire from the inside, and cursed herself for being so weak when it came to men being nice to her.

That night an old friend of red fermented grapes kept Grier company as she lay on her new bed and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, remembering the past. The bottle of wine in the crook of her arm was almost empty when she finally fell asleep, her face tear-stricken and looking like a complete mess after having thrown around the rubble lying around the room.

She had long pondered the way she felt when she was around Cullen, and wondered whether it was more old memories, of days when her most important task was to return a book to the library, or whether it was a new flame that had sparked to life after being alone for so long. Either way, she didn’t want to feel the way she felt when she was around him. She didn’t want to experience that pain and heartache, which came hand in hand with rejection, again. After exhausting her mind with what-ifs, she’d fallen back into the routine of imagining being held by someone while touching herself. But this time, Alistair’s face was long forgotten, replaced by the unshaved jaw, the scarred upper lip, the tired golden eyes, and blond locks of Cullen, which looked so soft that she couldn’t stop herself from imagining what it would feel like to brush her fingers through them.

Once more, she cursed herself and her wanton body.

“But what if he  _ doesn’t _ reject you? Have you thought of that? Maybe you  _ both _ want what you want. Wouldn’t that be the ideal outcome? Don’t you deserve that happiness?”

“But I’m scared that he  _ will _ reject me. What do I do then?”

“Then, my dear, I will pay for however many drinks you need to forget and start healing.”

“I don’t know...”

“Would that really be any different from the situation you’re already in, right now? Tell me, how many bottles have you finished off this week?”

Grier sighed in defeat and lay down over the table with a miserable sob. Dorian was right of course. The least she’d get out of confessing her feelings was an answer to all her wonders of did he like her back or not. If he didn’t, nothing would really change, just as Dorian had pointed out. Maybe it would hurt a bit more, but it wouldn’t last forever.

“Besides,” Dorian added, more softly, and laid an arm over her shoulders. “...if you really can’t take the rejection, you’ll still have me.”

“Thank you,” Grier replied, knowing Dorian spoke truthfully. Maybe it was time to take the bull by the horns…

“So ,Cullen…” Grier tried hard not to make the topic obvious, but she was too nervous to beat around the bush. “Did you leave anyone behind in Kirkwall?”  _ Yes, a good start, _ she told herself.  _ Don’t go straight for the events from Ferelden. It might put him off. _

“No. I fear I made few friends in there, and my family’s in Ferelden,” he replied, not looking up from the papers scattered over his desk as he spoke.

_ Not exactly what I meant, but a good start… He has a family. I wonder if they’re close? _

“No one special caught your interest?” she asked.  _ Got to be a little more direct. _

“Not in Kirkwall,” he replied.

_ Not in Kirkwall? So somewhere else?  _ Grier swallowed, unsure of whether to pursue the topic further or not.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted  _ anyone _ in my life,” he explained with a far-off look on his face as he straightened behind the desk.

“If you don’t mind my asking...” Grier said.  _ More directly. Get to the point before it gets too awkward _ . “The Hero of Ferelden was a Circle mage–”

Before she could finish, Cullen replied, without thinking: “I remember her Harrowing. She was a lovely young woman.”

Grier gaped silently at him, feeling her cheeks redden by his careless words of admiration towards her past self.

“There was some youthful infatuation on my part,” he admitted. “A feeling I had forsaken until recently.”

“Until recently?” Had he finally realised who she was? “Cullen.” She stepped closer to the desk and leaned closer to him so he’d look at her. “Did you know I used to watch you… the way you watch me sometimes?”

Cullen swallowed audibly, clearly taken off guard. So he hadn’t realised who she was, had he?

“I still fondly remember the time I came to speak with you right after my Harrowing,” Grier continued, trying to give him all the hints she could without straight up telling him who she was. He ought to know before she betrayed any more of her feelings towards him. “I’d watched you from the sidelines for a long time, and when I finally gathered my courage to ask if you’d care to spend some time alone with me, you ran away. I guess you were just embarrassed.” She chuckled at the memory. It was the first one that didn’t threaten to hurt her when she remembered her past life.

“What?” Cullen stood frozen in place at her comment. Then it dawned on him. “Grier,” he sighed, his voice a weak whisper of disbelief. “But I thought you were one of the Amells?” He paused momentarily. “Oh. Did you... get married?”

Grier shook her head. “No,” she continued to chuckle. It was about time the truth came out. With a sigh, she explained: “I took my father’s name after the Blight in order to disappear. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just… I didn’t know how to breach the subject without either of us getting uncomfortable.”

Cullen scratched his neck the way he did when he felt embarrassed and avoided looking directly at her. For a split second, Grier feared he might run away again, but he held his ground. They both stood silently for a moment while letting the conversation sink in.

“So, you… liked me, back then?” Grier asked quietly.

“Yes,” Cullen huffed. “And I still do, it seems.”

Grier wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “What?”

“I admit, you’ve caught my interest, even before I realised who you were,” he explained with a blush on his cheeks. “Now, I realise it wasn’t someone new I’d started having feelings for, but rekindled the flame from my youth.”

“I– I feel the same way,” Grier muttered. “I liked you back then,” she admitted. “Quite a lot. But then I was conscripted by the Wardens, and I didn’t get to say goodbye. I kind of… forgot. Or tried to.”

“Life goes on,” Cullen said.

Grier nodded.  _ Exactly. _ “When I saw you again, after the Conclave, I couldn’t believe my eyes, but it was really you. Cullen. Alive and well after everything that happened in Ferelden.”

“Not to mention Kirkwall...” Cullen muttered. “I’m thankful for being here today. For getting to know you again.”

Cullen rounded his desk and cautiously approached her. She stayed put, watching him close in on her. He reached out and stroked her cheek with his gloved hand. Then, in a flash, he removed the leather to feel her warm skin on his. She leaned into the touch, having long since forgotten how wonderful it felt to have someone else touch her. Cullen stood as close as he could, looking down at her, waiting for something. Grier looked up to meet his eyes and shuddered when he licked his lips. And suddenly, he pressed them against hers, and she felt like she was melting into his arms. She even let a soft moan escape her lips. Her entire body trembled with the overwhelming surge of emotions that she had kept buried deep inside her for the past ten years, and it all flowed over, causing salty tears to run down her cheeks as Cullen held her close, still kissing her.

A while later, which felt all too soon, Cullen pulled away, somewhat shocked over the tears on Grier’s cheeks. But when she explained they were tears of happiness, he relaxed and kissed her once more.

“You kissed me,” Grier stated later with a smile on her pink lips.

“I did,” Cullen agreed with equally pink lips, making the scar on them stand out even more. “It… it was nice.”

“It was.” Grier’s smile grew wider as he leaned down and peppered her with even more kisses. She hadn’t been this happy in a long, long while.

It was time for her to forget about the past, and start living in the present.


End file.
